There was once a noodle that liked to wiggle. The noodle was independent and wiggled out of a hulking pink ring. Wiggle. Wiggle. That’s what the noodle would do. The noodle wiggled out of the pink ring, turned around and then licked it clean. The noodle was courteous and liked the ring to be squeaky clean. Once out of the ring there was splashy water all around the noodle as it went down, down. Around and around the noodle went until it was so dizzy it could hardly remember it was a noodle.
There was silence.
On the plate the noodle found itself. There were meatballs and thick sauce with onions and peppers. It was such a delightful place for the noodle. It was warm and was a place it could thicken and grow.
Down the hatch.
Tunnel snuggling was fun. The noodle moved through the tunnel where the pink ring awaited.